Knights of Passion
by Caffey
Summary: [J/C, P/T, K/7] Damsels in distress, a daring rescue, and now the shining suits of armour come off.


Disclaimer: I'm too tired to fully acknowledge that Star Trek and all its characters are Paramount's. Then again, I never do that so it's okay, I guess.

Author's Note: Dedicated to Anne Rose, whom I promised I was going to finish a story in time for her contest. Thanks go out to Kadi and KateF for providing much needed inspiration, Addy for betaing, and JinnyR for the title. Love you, girls!

Rated: PG-13

Knights of Passion 

by Caffey

Chakotay raised his glass to Tom and Harry in toast. "Here's to us," he announced. "May our deaths be dignified." Then he knocked back his drink before his head hit the Mess Hall table with a resounding thud and a loud, pitiful groan. 

Tom winced in sympathy, but sadly shook his head all the same. The man used to face Cardassians head on, yet the thought of Voyager's three most prominent women plotting revenge could easily throw him off-balance. "Harry," Tom said, turning to his friend, "tell me you're not as intimidated as he is. I mean, come on! What's the worst they could do?" 

Up until now, Harry had been remarkably calm about the whole thing. Probably due to being caught up in the memory of getting a handful of Seven of Nine. Now his eyes grew to the size of saucers, and his head snapped left and right, frantically looking around the deserted Mess Hall. Only when he was reassured that they were alone did the slightly maniacal gleam leave his eyes, and only fear remained. "You mean, except for the fact that they could bust us down to crewmen, humiliate us in front of the entire crew, and castrate us at last? Not a whole lot, I suppose." 

Tom gulped. "When you put it like that, it sounds bad." He reached for the half-empty bottle of Talaxian Brandy and poured himself another drink. "You want some more, too?" 

"Yes, please," Harry replied at once, holding out his glass. "What about him?" He pointed at Chakotay's head. "He sure looks like he could do with some of this stuff himself. Perhaps he'll stop banging his head on the table if he's drunk enough. Looks painful if you ask me." 

Tom gave him a peculiar look. "Remember the last time we got him drunk?" 

"Say no more," Harry begged, wincing as the memory he'd so carefully repressed came back with a vengeance. "What are we going to do about him, though? His behavior freaks me out." 

The head answered, voice muffled by the table. "Good. I'm not the only terrified person in this room, then." 

"He's alive!" Tom whooped. 

Chakotay raised his head long enough to stare him down. "It'll pass." 

Tom rolled his eyes, the brandy rushing to his head and making him daring. Well, more so than usual. "Look on the bright side, you two finally know what it's like to feel your women." 

By now, Harry was just _this_ close to following Chakotay's example and hit his head, but he suppressed the urge by a force of will. "Feel them and feel them up is not the same thing, Tom. I thought you as an ex-womanizer would know the difference." 

"Well, what choice did we have? Surely they'll understand." 

"Before or after they maim us?" Harry leaned in until he was almost in his friend's face. "Tom, try to understand what I'm saying. We _groped_ them in _public_. I have a hard time imagining them shrugging it off that easily. It was inappropriate, it was outrageous, it was-" 

"Fun?" Tom offered. 

"Hell yes, that too," Harry allowed with a broad grin. "But I was more thinking along the lines of 'suicidal'. Contrary to public belief, I don't have a death wish." Tom arched a brow in amazed disbelief. Chakotay muttered something unintelligible. Harry shrugged. "I just keep ending up dead. Not the same thing." 

"Can we focus here, people?" Tom asked. "As I was trying to point out to you, we didn't have much of a choice. It was either claim them as our own or have the ambassador claim them for his harem. Somehow, I doubt that they would have liked the second option much better. Don't you agree?" A low growl came from deep within Chakotay's chest. "I'll take that as a yes. Harry?" 

"You've got a point there, I'll give you that. The question is, will they calm down long enough to see it the same way? I haven't seen any of them so furious since ... since ... I think I've _never_ seen them so pissed before, actually. They scare me, Tom. They make me want to crawl back into my mom's womb where it's warm and cozy, and you don't have a care in the world." 

"Harry, Harry," Tom said, clapping his friend on the shoulder and grinning conspiratorially. "Haven't you learned anything in these past seven years? If reason doesn't work, we'll suck up to them until they take pity on us. Simple as that." Once again, Chakotay growled in response, a menacing sound that send a shiver up the other men's spines. Tom swiveled around to him. "Would you stop that? It's making me nervous." 

Ever so slowly, Chakotay lifted his head and leaned back in his chair, a defiant expression crossing his face. "You're a wuss," he told Tom, meaning it. He looked strangely happy for someone whose life was likely going to end soon and painfully at that. "Suck up to them all you want. Since it's not going to work, I'll simply go back to my quarters and face their wrath like a man." 

Harry eyed him suspiciously. "Doing what, precisely?" 

"Drinking myself into a state of numbness, of course." With that Chakotay reached for the bottle. Noticing that it was nearly empty, he heaved a sigh of annoyance. "Guess I've got to go get more of this stuff first." A frown etched itself into his forehead, creasing the indigo lines of his tattoo, as he concentrated on standing. The task was made difficult by the world spinning around him. The rational part of his mind, what little was left anyway, chided him for drinking alcohol when he should have known better than that. 

Oh what the heck, to hell with rationality. 

Determined, Chakotay began to carefully set one foot in front of the other, unsteadily making his way across the Mess Hall to the counter. Neelix had to have more of that self-made brandy, and he would be damned if he didn't find it. 

The other two just stared at his retreating back, silently admiring his courage, however misplaced it may be. Tom was the first to snap out of their stupor. "Do you think he'll live long enough to deal with the mother of all hangovers?" 

"He'd be better off if he didn't. And frankly so would we, now that I think about it," Harry added, a 'deer in the headlights' look in his eyes. "I'm not old enough to handle Borg wrath _and_ a cranky ex-Maquis." 

A triumphant whoop echoed through the Mess Hall then, and their heads snapped around in time to see Chakotay cradling a bottle close to his chest and slipping out the doors -- well, staggering in truth. 

Tom's eyes nearly popped out at the sight. "Agreed." 

*** * ***

It took Chakotay a while to recognize the door chime, and even longer to realize what it meant. He groaned, and immediately regretted it, as his own voice resounded loudly in his head. "Go away," he muttered, turning on the couch until his back faced the doors. 

"Have you been drinking, Commander?" 

Chakotay hadn't heard her come in; the hammering in his skull drowned out much anything else. He slowly sat up, clutching his head to keep the world from spinning out of control, and cautiously shifted positions again. Though his limbs felt too heavy to be moved, he managed to look up, somehow. 

Kathryn Janeway stood in the middle of his quarters, hands on her lips, chin stuck out, and shoulders squared. She looked for all the world as if she was going into battle. 

Her eyes shone brightly with amusement. 

"Ack, don't 'Commander' me," Chakotay croaked, and made a disparaging gesture. His tongue very nearly remained stuck to his teeth as he spoke, and he made a mental note to not ever touch alcohol again. The negative effects outweighed the positive by far, if the shallow taste in his mouth was anything to go by. Not to mention the rough texture of his tongue. "I feel awful." 

It was such a pathetic statement that Kathryn would have laughed out loud if it hadn't been so obviously the truth. "Awww, I'm sorry," she purred, and walked up the couch, settling next to him. "But it serves you right for the stunt you pulled today. Though I appreciate the rescue, I don't approve of your method." 

For an instant, Chakotay felt the urge to strangle her beautiful neck, but quenched the impulse. He could think of more interesting things to do with it. A wolfish grin spread across his face, and his eyes glazed over. Far more interesting... 

Kathryn returned his grin with a sultry smirk. "I know what you're thinking, Chakotay. Later, I promise." She settled more comfortably into his couch then, putting her feet up on the coffee table. "For now, I want you to focus, though. What were you thinking to make such a public display? I was actually enjoying the thought of murder." 

The last sentence served to snap Chakotay our of his fantasies, and his eyes narrowed slightly. He remembered the incident a tad bit differently. "I recall you sighing in contentment, Kathryn. No, don't you dare deny it," he added when she opened her mouth to protest. "You may not have liked the audience or the circumstances, but you definitely enjoyed my hands on you." The barely hidden arousal in her eyes belied her defiant posture, which he registered not without manly pride. "Besides, as Tom so adequately put it tonight, we didn't have much of a choice." 

Kathryn raised a brow at that. "Care to enlighten me as to why that is?" 

"You're mine," he announced possessively. "And I protect what's mine by any means necessary. So if that means I've got to pop into trade negotiations and claim you in public to prevent your becoming a concubine, so be it." 

Kathryn didn't quite trust her ears. "I'll have you know that I'm no one's possession," she punctuated each word with a stab of her index finger against his chest. Her eyes were ablaze as she leaned closer until she was almost nose to nose with him. His breath nearly knocked her out cold, and she quickly retreated to a safe distance, waving a hand in front of her face. "Chakotay, you rank. How much have you been drinking tonight?" 

"Too much," he admitted, very slowly lowering his head onto her lap. Hmm, that felt nice. He should just stay there until the worst of his hangover had passed - or longer. "I blame you," he continued, but his voice lacked the accusing tone that should have accompanied such a statement. "Next time we end up in a similar situation - and trust me, we will - I'll simply go right ahead and make a ship-wide announcement about our relationship. Alcohol sucks." 

Kathryn's features softened, and her hands wove themselves into his black hair, gently massaging his scalp. "Was it at least worth a try?" 

"Hell yes," Chakotay grinned up at her, all the while reveling in the nice feelings her fingers evoked. "It was quite a show. I loved the terrified gleam in both Tom's and Harry's eyes. Just before I left, they looked for all the world as if they were contemplating suicide." 

"You should have become an actor." 

"Kathryn?" 

"Yes?" 

"Shut up." 

*** * ***

The ancient TV was running, when Tom entered their quarters. The light had been dimmed, and he could smell the scent of freshly made popcorn. A grin spread across his face. 

"B'Elanna, I'm home," he announced to the room at large, when he couldn't make out a sign of his wife. Plopping down on the couch, he waited for her response. But she'd put on one of his favorite cartoons, and he soon was too fascinated by it to notice her coming into the living room. 

B'Elanna put the bowl of popcorn down on the table, and settled next to her husband. Then she punched him in the arm. 

"Ouch," Tom exclaimed, rubbing the sore spot. Confused eyes sought hers. "What did you do that for?" 

Happily munching popcorn, B'Elanna took her time to reply. "You're late." 

Tom's eyebrows shot up, and a disbelieving expression crossed his face. "You knew I was going to hang out with Chakotay and Harry, and that usually takes time." His hand reached for the bowl, snatching a handful of popcorn before his wife could protest. "They needed a sympathetic ear after today's events." 

"Aren't you afraid that _I_ might have _your_ head?" she teased, an amused gleam in her eyes. "Or worse yet," she added, and grabbed the bowl to hold it out of his reach, "I could deprive you of your beloved popcorn." If anyone ever perfected the art of pouting, it was Tom. As if of their own volition, his arms folded over his chest, and he stuck his bottom lip out. Combined with the puppy dog look of his eyes it was B'Elanna's undoing. She sighed. "That's not fair," she gave in, handing him the bowl. "Where did you learn that?" 

Tom's face lit up, smugness written all over it. "I've always been a good actor, but today I really needed this talent for the very first time." He winced slightly as he remembered the evening in the Mess Hall. "I really feel bad for Chakotay and Harry, you know. I hope they're still alive and kicking in the morning. Alive would be enough, actually." 

B'Elanna rested her head against his shoulder, a wistful sigh escaping her. "Well, I could see how they might be in trouble. You'd be too if you weren't so cute." She smiled, knowing how much he hated to be called 'cute'. Her smile even grew in size when she recalled how the men had beamed down earlier and made quite a show of 'claiming' their women. "Good Kahless," she chuckled, "I can't believe you guys had the guts to do that. Especially when you had to reckon with the combined forces of a Klingon, a redhead, and a Borg." 

"Half-Klingon," Tom pointed out. 

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Semantics. The point is, you're nuts to mess with the three of us. _I_ can handle being groped by you -- even in public. Though if you ever give a repeat performance, you'd better have a _very_ good reason." As if to emphasize her point, she growled lowly. 

"Hey," he said, leaning back to glance at her askance. "Need I remind you that we did have a very good reason. Yes, we're nuts, but we don't have a death wish. Well," he qualified his statement, "Harry does, despite his claims to the contrary, but that's beside the point. As I was saying, after careful consideration we decided it was the best course of action." 

"For whom?" 

"For all parties involved." B'Elanna snorted. Tom shrugged. "It looked like it at the time. Okay, so we reacted with less than optimal restraint. Can you blame us?" 

"Without a second thought." 

"Gee, thanks." Tom faked hurt. "I'll remind you next time we end up in a similar situation -- and trust me, we will. You can go right ahead and be the next delusional alien's newest harem addition." 

"When you put it like that. I think I'll let you live." 

"That's awfully nice of you, B'Elanna," Tom grinned. "Hopefully, Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine will see it that way, too. I'd hate it if they deprived me of all the fun that stems from acting as though I was in the same boat with Chakotay and Harry." 

For the second time that evening, B'Elanna punched him playfully. "You're bad, Tom." 

"But you love me anyway." 

"Damned straight." 

*** * ***

As soon as the doors had slid shut behind Harry, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. In the solitude of his quarters, they was no need to keep up the facade of Voyager's resident terrified ensign. With a twinkle in his eyes and a spring in his step, he went to his bedroom -- and bumped right into Seven. 

"Whoa," was all Harry managed, as he was rather distracted by ... things. 

Seven eyed him up and down, first with her ocular implant, then with her good eye. "Harry," she began, an unusual husky note to her voice, "would you let go of my-" 

"Things?" he offered absently. Then the words sank in, and he jerked his hands back. "Uhm, sorry. I was just not expecting to find you here." He tilted his head, forcing himself to look her in the eyes instead of somewhere else. "What are you doing here, though?" 

"I require your assistance." Seven steered him to his bed, and had him sit down. "Again." 

Harry's eyes lit up, and he nearly gave in to the impulse to waggle his brows suggestively. "I aim to please." 

Instead of settling down next time, like he expected, Seven towered in front of him, brows furrowed. The way she crossed her arms over her chest, pushing up her ... things ... almost distracted Harry to the point of total oblivion, and only the last part of her sentence registered with him. "... of your earlier actions." 

"Could you say that again, Seven?" he asked, shaking his head to clear it. 

Whether emotions were irrelevant or not, Seven looked decidedly annoyed with him. "I said," she repeated slowly, as though he was a little dense, "I fail to see the point of your earlier actions. I find it inappropriate to fraternize during trade negotiations." 

Borg logic. Sometimes, Harry hated Borg logic. He flopped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling for a moment. "You could have told me sooner," he sighed. "I would have let the ambassador keep you for his harem. Would you have liked that any better?" 

"No," she admitted, but he could hear a 'but'. He really, really hated Borg logic. "But protocol prohibits the interference with local law or custom." 

Sitting back up, Harry grasped her hand and pulled her down next to him. His eyes came pretty darn close to glaring a hole into beautiful face. "We did not interfere with local custom, Seven. In case you haven't noticed, the only chance to get you out of the situation was to _abide_ by local custom." A lazy grin spread across his face, as he added, "That it involved getting a handful of our women was merely a plus." 

Something akin to amusement shone in Seven's eyes then. "I must admit that it was a stimulating experience." 

"Agreed," Harry replied, and lay back down, pulling her next to him. "I just regret everything after. Did you know that Chakotay is into self-abuse? I always thought he could handle just about anything, but the thought of the Captain's wrath drove him into bumping his head onto the table. Repeatedly." 

Seven's forehead creased. "Why would he intentionally damage himself?" 

"As opposed to us, the Captain and Commander aren't an item. I think he was stealing himself for the possibility of not surviving the day. Captain Janeway might not have found the experience as 'stimulating' as you have, Seven." Harry groaned. "Gods, it was pathetic. All evening long Chakotay and Tom were pretty much scared by the prospect of facing their respective woman, whereas I was forced to act as though I was too." Rolling onto his side, he ran a finger along her jaw line. He noticed, not without satisfaction, that she shivered slightly. "At one point, thoughts of you nearly betrayed me." 

"Would you be willing to share those thoughts with me?" 

"I'd rather show you," Harry whispered before his mouth descended on hers. 

*** * ***

"Well, ladies, that went rather well, didn't it?" With a coffee in her hand, and a smug expression on her face, Kathryn Janeway sat on her Ready Room couch, regarding the other two women. They'd all met up to discuss last day's events. 

B'Elanna snickered. It was an odd sound, coming from her, and caused Seven to raise her ocular implant. "Oh, I'm in complete agreement there, Captain. The expression on Tom's face was priceless when he told me how much he pitied Chakotay and Harry." 

Kathryn sipped at her coffee to cover her grin. "Well, Seven, what about Harry? What did he say?" 

As usual, Seven had preferred to remain standing, hands on her back. She did, however, look awfully pleased with herself, especially for an ex-Borg drone. "Referring to the incident, his exact words were: 'I just regret everything after.' Then he proceeded to tell me how Commander Chakotay deliberately damaged himself." The ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth then. "I do believe the expression 'he felt the Commander's pain' is applicable." 

At that point, Kathryn couldn't hold back the burst of laughter any longer. In fact, she nearly choked on her coffee, as she imagined the pained look on Harry's face. "Well," she croaked, once she'd gotten a grip, clearing her throat. "The Commander very nearly drank himself into a coma, just to keep the other two in the dark about our relationship. I'd say we definitely succeeded in playing the men off against each other. Don't you think?" 

B'Elanna had a hard time controlling the urge to giggle at the picture the Captain's description evoked. "I couldn't agree more! Serves them right for the stunt they pulled." 

Seven's response was a little more subdued, but sincere all the same. "Indeed." 

An evil gleam entered Kathryn's eyes then. "Perhaps we should do this more often. I wonder how long it would take them to figure out what's going on..." 

"It'd be a lot of fun," B'Elanna replied. 

"I concur," came Seven's response. 

Kathryn grinned openly at that. "Hell yes. Agreed then." The End 

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Story copyrighted © 2001 by Jana "Caffey" Prillwitz


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